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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323099">He Didnt Like My Sheets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyntha/pseuds/Kyntha'>Kyntha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Jealousy, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Recovery, Sexual Abuse, ethical non monogamy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:09:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyntha/pseuds/Kyntha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Original piece, mildly autobiographical about emotionally abusive relationship and recovery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>He Didnt Like My Sheets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t like my sheets. We spent a long weekend on them and they kept popping off the corners when we “made love.”</p><p>“Making love.” That’s certainly what he considered it. An hour of torso twisting, hip wrenching, back bending, flesh grabbing, body claiming rapid fire is how I considered it. Once in a blue moon that kind of “lovemaking” is exciting. Seven times in three days is exhausting and demoralizing. Am I a partner or an object?</p><p>The first time we met I was honest with him upfront. I am clearly, intentionally, and openly not monogamous. There is another person in my life...and in my bed. Monogamy was not in the cards. He had questions; he was curious, but said he was not opposed to my lifestyle.</p><p>We explored resources together so he could understand more. He said he was not uncomfortable when I mentioned the other person who captured my heart. That person was an important part of my life.</p><p>Yet, he didn’t like my sheets. The soft, worn, well used grey and cream striped sheets. That popped off on the corners when we “made love.”</p><p>I was open about my time boundaries. Longer dates a few times a month. Maybe drinks for an hour here and there after work.</p><p>The first time I saw the other person in my life after we made love, he seemed apprehensive but mostly nonplussed.</p><p>My other person and I were unable to see each other for some time. Our schedules didn’t mesh. He, who didn’t like my sheets, worked his way in. First drinks after work once a week plus longer dates on the weekend. Then “Let’s take a trip together.” Then video chats a few evenings a week while I was holed up in my room, hiding from the teenager with whom I shared my residence, but not my personal life.</p><p>And he became adamant he didn’t like my sheets. The soft, worn, well used grey and cream striped sheets that had seen other lovers. That popped off on the corners when we “made love.”</p><p>A few evenings a week became every night. Apprehensive and nonplussed became sullen and angry. An hour once a week became two or three times a week. “Lovemaking” - the exhausting hour of rapid fire - became two hours or three.</p><p>He dominated my time. My other person faded into the background as my mental, emotional, and physical energy was robbed from me. I felt like I was drowning. Drowning in anxiety and weariness and grief. Drowning in sorrow and depression and isolation. Drowning in ownership.</p><p>All along he maintained he didn’t like my sheets. The soft, worn, well used grey and cream striped sheets that had seen other lovers who never complained about my sheets. That popped off the corners when we “made love.”</p><p>After a long weekend he drove one way to his home. I drove another to my work. I was bruised and sore and aching from “lovemaking.” My body was tense and tight from mental stress. My soul was weary from trying to keep my head above water. As I watched his car disappear from my rear view mirror, I exhaled for the first time in three days. A long deep sigh releasing all the emotions trapped inside. </p><p>I then released him. Let him go back into the void from which he came. He cried. He raged. He threatened. He bargained. I held my ground.</p><p>That night, I put those sheets on my bed. The soft, worn, well used grey and cream striped sheets that had seen other lovers who never complained about my sheets and he would never see again. That popped off the corners when we “made love.” I slept. I slept deeply. I slept as though I hadn’t slept in years. </p><p>When I woke I purged my home of his scent. I disposed of gifts. I removed myself from his social media. I reconnected with my other person, the one who did like my sheets. We made love. (Without the quotes).</p><p>And I bought myself new sheets. That will gradually become soft, worn, well used teal sheets that will see other lovers who will never complain about my sheets and he will never see. They will pop off corners when we make love. </p><p>And these people will love my sheets.</p>
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